


of pancakes and shopping

by WolvesChaseRabbits



Series: what if pancakes were made of cotton candy [1]
Category: Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 03:56:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5693674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolvesChaseRabbits/pseuds/WolvesChaseRabbits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Spies on their day off. </p>
<p>It's not often they get a day-off, but when they do, it's time to catch-up on normal life. Domesticity ensues. In other words, making breakfasts, grocery shopping and lazing in bed. And of course, pancakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	of pancakes and shopping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ishougen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishougen/gifts).



> Part of the FYBuckyNat Secret Santa 2015.
> 
> This is my gift to ishougen (krispyskreme). Sorry it's so late, and I hope you like it! All your prompts were great but I decided to go with this one.
> 
> Special thanks to Tabs (who has no ao3 account) for nudging/dragging/screaming me along and feeding me grapes. We'll make pancakes together soon.

When Bucky first realises he’s awake, he doesn’t move. Instead, he counts the number of seconds in his breath. That’s when he hears her breathing.

 

It’s soft, and steady, and slower than his own. Bucky can’t help the edges of his lips turning up in a little smile -- he can never help it when it comes to her. He doesn’t mind. Not like it was a secret anyway, not anymore. Slowly, he releases a particularly long breath and opens his eyes. A pale, blank ceiling greets him.

 

‘Mistake’ is the first thought that comes to his mind. Bucky frowns and closes his eyes.

 

He keeps his eyes closed as he turns on his side, legs tangling in the sheets. They weren’t particularly soft, much less velvety, but at least they served their purpose in covering his bare bottom. And kept him warm. And provided him with another excuse to hold her through the night.

 

(She had rolled her eyes and indicated that the blanket was comfortably large enough for the both of them.)

 

A soft hum prompts him to open his eyes again.

 

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

 

_Yes. Much better._

 

The curtains are closed, but the sunlight peeking in through the cracks of the curtains illuminate her slender body. Angelic, some would say. She’s far from an angel, he knows, but that doesn’t stop her from being the best damn thing that ever happened to him. Neither does it stop the idiot smile from spreading across his face.

 

Then her thin lips twist into a smile of her own.

 

No, a smirk. A cheeky smirk. The kind subtly different from the one she often gives her target. Such a fine thread between affection and predation.

 

Bucky’s not being hunted now though, so he takes his time. He exhales slowly, eyes lingering over her smooth, light skin, trailing up her sides to her arms and shoulders and neck, until he finally reaches her face. Her complexion is smooth, but he doesn’t miss the shadow under her eyes, nor does he forgo the tight line of her lips.

 

“Hey...” He breathes, the word coming out breathless.

 

She blinks, and a little spark comes to her blue eyes as the tight line eases.

 

He decides that this is the scene he wants to wake up to every morning, if he can.

 

* * *

 

The smell of breakfast invades his nose before he sees the kitchen. It’s sweet, and buttery, and spreading all around his apartment. Not that he was going to complain. He doesn’t need to see the stove before he feels an ethereal sponginess rest on his tongue.

 

There is no mistaking that smell. At least, not for Bucky. He knows this like Clint knows his arrows. Bucky’s eyes widen just slightly as he steps out, licking his lips.

 

“I thought you were sick of pancakes.” He says, walking over and wearing nothing but a pair of boxers.

 

“I am.” She flips the pan with a flick of her wrist and catches the pancake with a plate on her other hand, all the while smiling at him. The pancake lands neatly on top of its two predecessors. A simple job for someone of her calibre. “And I was going to make toast, but I found out we were out of jam.” She continues, raising a brow. “And bread.”

 

“My bad.” Bucky grins sheepishly, reaching for another plate. He replaces the plate in her hand with the empty one, smoothly dipping his head to give her a quick peck on her cheek. “Good thing they’re not going to call us in today, huh.”

 

“Let’s just hope the world isn’t in immediate danger.” The pan barely hisses as she scoops another serving of batter in.

 

There’s a soft clatter as Bucky sets the table. “Day off, Nat.” He says, pulling a bowl of fruits from the fridge and cradling it in his left arm. “You deserve this.” He picks off a grape and pops it into his mouth.

 

“I think I deserve to have toast for breakfast.”

 

“Yeah, well, pancakes are better. Besides, as you’ve said, we don’t have any bread.” Bucky grins, sauntering over. He holds the bowl out in front of her, careful as she flips the pancake over.

 

“Grape.”

 

Bucky plucks the plumpest one he can find in the bunch and slips it between her lips. She hums and shimmies the pancake onto the plate before loading more batter into the pan.

 

He holds another one out to her between his fingers, and she gives a slight nod.

 

When he slides the grape in this time, his thumb lingers on her lower lip. Bucky doesn’t wait for her to look up before he swoops in, catching her lips in a kiss. They’re tinged of grape but he doesn’t mind.

 

Hell, it even tasted better than his actual breakfast.

 

* * *

 

Bucky cannot remember the last time he’s been to a supermarket.

 

To be fair, he’s never really needed to go. S.H.I.E.L.D. had a canteen and take-out was convenient. Besides, this is assuming Steve hadn’t _already_  dropped by with a lunchbox or two. Or Sam, who was only probably running errands for Steve. Or any of the other avengers, for that matter. (He likes it best when Nat was the one on food delivery duty.)

 

And even if he /did/ go to the supermarket, he’d go late at night, about an hour or even half an hour before it closes; definitely /not/ when the place is bustling full of people. Bucky tenses as a young girl shoves past him, giggling, followed immediately by a slightly older boy.

 

“Hey, easy there...” He looks over just in time to catch her grin as she loops her arm in his.

 

She’s wearing a hoodie over one of his old shirts, and it’s probably the shirt or her hair but _damn_ , she still smells of fresh pancakes.

 

“It’s really crowded here.”

 

“That’s because everyone needs to buy groceries.” She hums, sliding her hand into his pocket and clasping their fingers together. “Here.”

 

As Bucky takes the basket from her, he snorts. “That was quick.”

 

“I know what I need, and I get it. I’m not about to spend the whole day doing grocery shopping, James.”

 

The basket was already half full with various snacks and unmentionables.

 

“What else are we left with?”

 

“Peanut butter. Or whatever spread you want with your bread.” She says, dropping a loaf of bread into the basket.

 

“That’s it?”

 

“Knowing you, we’d take ages just picking one.”

 

Bucky grins as they make their way meandering down the aisles. “You’re letting me pick?”

 

“It’s _your_  groceries.” She says, rolling her eyes. “Also, if you’re getting peanut butter, get the smooth one. And don’t take too long, we still have laundry to do.”

 

“Yes, ma’am...”

 

Then he freezes, looking up at the shelf beside them. “Nat...?”

 

“Hm?” She turns to look, her smile giving way to a thoughtful purse of her lips. “One...” She says, voice low. “Pick one.”

 

“Why are there are so many?”

 

“James.”

 

“We need to try them all.”

 

“ _One._ ”

 

Bucky swallows the whine in his throat as he reaches for one of the boxes (apple and cinnamon pancake mix) and dumps it in the basket.

 

* * *

 

They crawl into bed early that day: after the groceries were put away, the laundry cleaned and ironed, and dinner was finished and the trash taken out. Their bodies twist, entwining together in the sheets as they nuzzle into each other.

 

Her skin is warm against him as she reaches over, fingers dancing over his shoulder before they press a small button just around his left shoulder blade. Instantly, the nude on his left arm fades away to expose the glinting metal underneath. Or, at least, it would’ve glinted if the lights were on.

 

Bucky’s not bothered though, not as she traces her hand down the ridges of his arm and brings it around her.

 

“James...?”

 

“Hm?” Her hair had lost the buttery scent by now. He presses his nose to her scalp and takes another deep breath. Strawberries. Bucky smiles when he feels her tighten her grip slightly around his waist.

 

“Goodnight.”

 

“Goodnight, Natalia.”

 

Bucky doesn’t wake up late the next morning. Even then, Natasha’s long gone -- the crumpled sheets cold beneath his touch.

 

He’s not upset though, especially not when he sees the little note by his bedside, stuck onto a small bar of chocolate. In fact, he grins that idiot grin of his as he picks it up and reads it.

 

_James,_

_\- Borrowed your jacket,_

_consider this thanks._

_N._


End file.
